


It takes two fools

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyguard Jesse McCree, Bodyswap, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Fluff, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Idiots in Love, It's Magic, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Smut, secretly working for Blackwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: Everybody in the Hanamura castle knows Genji is a little shit. Tired of the current situation between his brother and Jesse, he takes matters into his own hands.





	It takes two fools

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainNeedsNoSleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNeedsNoSleep/gifts), [Mercurytail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurytail/gifts).



> This one-shot is a prompt that CaptainNeedsNoSleep and Mercurytail asked, and I did my best to provide ٩(♡ε♡ )۶ I would have never tried to write a bodyswap if you guys hadn't asked for it, and it was so much fun!!! ლ(́◉◞౪◟◉‵ლ)
> 
> I really hope you like it, I ended up researching nothing about bodyswaps and just jumping into the pool blindly (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

“This is your fault!” Hanzo screams, surprised at his own voice. He trashes the Stetson on his head onto the floor and frowns at his giggling brother and his own face as though he is in front of a mirror but out of sync. This isn’t happening; this is a nightmare, and he wants to wake up.

“Hey!” McCree complains. The way his voice resounds in Hanzo’s ears when he hasn’t commanded the order clutches his stomach. _Is this how I sound when I am angry?_ The thought quickly drifts off when McCree picks up the hat and wears it even though it’s too big for him now. Genji can’t hold any longer and a loud guffaw fills the room and infuriates Hanzo even more.

“Shut up, Genji!” Hanzo says, clenching his fists at both sides of his body when what he really wants is to jump onto the cowboy and smash the stupid grin off his face when he joins his brother and laughs. “What are you laughing at?” he hisses, recognizing McCree’s demeanor when he folds his arms over his chest and winks at him but executed with his body instead.

“You’re so pretty today, darlin’.” The endearment prickles all the little hairs at his nape at once when it comes out in his own voice but in McCree’s southern drawl. Hanzo groans from sheer frustration, approaching them and finding his stride unusually large. He steps on the wreckage of the broken, ancient vase and curses in Japanese. The damage is done, the curse has been cast, and all they can do is… he groans once more.

“You broke it!” Hanzo snarls at McCree, grabbing the collar of his shirt, still perplex at how strange it is to yell at himself, knowing McCree is inside his body. He may have his face, his looks, and his eyes, but he can see the familiar spark of his soul inside those black voids that he called his own not long ago.

“It was an accident!” McCree excuses himself, knitting his eyebrows and slapping his hand away. Mid-way, he falls under the sight of those slender fingers he grazed one night and never dared to try again. How would he have loved to take his hand that night! When they were both drunk and with their guards down, but he chickened out. Hanzo glaring at him through his whiskey-colored eyes brings him to the present. “Actually, sweetheart, you broke it when you tried to help me,” McCree says, reveling in the gobsmacked expression of Hanzo. “I had everything under control, the vase in my hands and then you stumbled over me and it fell.”

Hanzo’s roar can surely be heard on the farthest end of the Hanamura castle.

“Calm down, anija,” Genji says, but before he can regret his words -because Hanzo would never relax at his or any other’s command- his brother pins him in place with a ruthless glower.

“You, shut up,” Hanzo snarls, glancing back again at McCree. “From all the legendary antique items gathered on the castle, you had to destroy this one.” Hanzo huffs, running a hand through his hair, realizing how soft and thick it is, his hand lingering a tad too much before he releases it and two naughty strands fall in front of his eyes. He can only guess how sexy he looks having watched McCree attentively since the day his father hired him. Now his soul and mind are in his bodyguard’s body and vice versa.

“This should be on a museum! Not on a damn corner for anyone to stumble on it!” McCree shouts in frustration, his hat annoyingly covering his eyes while he keeps tapping it back. Genji squeezes his shoulder, trying to offer comfort. “I’m alright,” McCree mutters, hands on his hips. With a deep sigh, he turns about and asks Genji because he ain’t talking to Hanzo as long as the brat keeps yelling at him. “What do we do now?”

“We call it…”

“Shut up,” Hanzo warns, but Genji ignores him.

“We call it the get-along curse.” Hanzo rolls his eyes and paces the length of the room. His legs are so foreign he trips, his whole body feels unusually hot, his heart beats fast fueled by his anger, and his chest heaves trying to catch up with his ragged breath. He reaches for his throat. McCree’s skin is soft, marred only by a two-day stubble he insists on criticize but also finds tremendously arousing. Hanzo curses in Japanese. He could shave in retaliation and drive McCree mad.

“The vase will fix itself and your souls will come back to your corresponding bodies once you…”

“Genji,” Hanzo says, turning around to look at them. He never realized how much he and his brother look alike, but seeing Genji next to his frame almost brings a smile to his lips. If it weren’t for the garish, green hair, they’d be like two peas in a pod.

“Long story short, you two have to kiss,” Genji finishes with a snort, suppressing the giggling wanting to burst out of his mouth, enraging his brother further on. McCree smiles smugly, and the shy chuckle becomes a laughing fit in barely two seconds. Hanzo blushes deeply, a furrow between his eyebrows and his fists once more clenched with white-knuckle force at both sides of his body. He covers the distance between them in two strides, grabs McCree by the collar of his shirt and leans down to trap his mouth in an ungentle kiss that, even now, steals his breath away.

McCree’s heart races against the odds, and he closes his eyes, savoring a familiar taste of late morning coffee and tobacco on his mouth. But it’s Hanzo, and it shrinks his heart. _Not like this, goddamnit_ , he curses inwardly, yielding to the kiss nevertheless. Hanzo finds his way inside his mouth, pouring a faint grunt into it along with his tongue, but he interrupts the kiss abruptly, taking a sharp intake of air. “It is not working,” he snarls. There is no way to cover the blush on his cheeks and once he sees McCree beet red and mouth agape, the embarrassment is too much to handle. “It will not work.” His stomach clenches when he realizes this is useless and McCree will never… Suddenly, everything is too much and he wants nothing more than the loneliness of his chambers to gather his thoughts and find an alternate solution.

“You have to mean it,” Genji says, clearing his throat, but Hanzo is already scooting out the door in a cloud of gloominess and shame. He sighs, glancing at McCree who brushes his lips with the tip of his fingers and hasn’t gotten over the fact that they just kissed. “Jesse?” Genji calls.

“It caught me by surprise.” The sweetness of his face is one he used to see in Hanzo when they were nothing more than teens but that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Only after the cowboy came into their lives and his brother let his guard down, he was blessed with Hanzo’s smile more often. “Why didn’t the kiss work?”

Genji sighs, winding an arm over McCree’s shoulders and walking abreast outside. The brightness of the spring sun of Hanamura swathes them as they walk quietly through the engawa, the chirping of the birds and the distant noise of a crook offering the usual calmness surrounding the castle. “Give him some time,” he says. “I can’t explain ancient Japanese magic that I don’t even understand.”

“But… you know…” McCree says, glancing at him with puppy eyes. In many drunken nights, the cowboy has confessed his love for his brother, from the way he loves Hanzo’s scarce smiles to the way his eyes are like two deep wells without end. Genji rolls his eyes and pats his back.

“That you have the crush of all crushes on my brother and you’ve dreamed about a kiss for the past…” McCree nudges him before Genji teases him any longer, shushing him in case Hanzo is around and listens to their conversation. In truth, McCree is devastated that the kiss hasn't worked. He is certain of his feelings for Hanzo and this has been a harsh blow.

“This means he doesn’t care ‘bout me, right?” He asks, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“It has to be a sincere kiss,” Genji says. “Just leave him be for a while, I’ll go talk to him and figure this out.” McCree stops at his room’s shoji and glances back at Genji. “We can’t have you leading the Shimada-gumi, after all,” the brat teases and recognizes McCree’s smile in his brother’s features. Deep inside, he hopes this ends up well for both. He’s had enough of lovesick McCree getting drunk and brooding on his love life and of Hanzo suffering an unjustified unrequited love in silence unable to confess or leave a trail of breadcrumbs for the cowboy. If what it takes to solve this it’s a clumsy push at the vase at the right time, he’s done a great job so far.

“What am I supposed to do now?” McCree asks.

“Stay in your room and don’t get into trouble,” Genji says, patting once more McCree’s back before he turns around, but mischief wouldn’t let him leave without a last push. “Hey, Jesse!” He calls, glancing at him with both hands on his pockets and a devilish grin.

“What?”

“Don’t check Hanzo’s dick while you’re alone.”

“You, little shit!” McCree hisses, turning beet red at the suggestion. “I ain’t doing that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Genji croons, leaving a flustered McCree to himself while he ponders what he has to tell Hanzo in order to solve this situation satisfactorily. The only thing Hanzo can’t find out is that he pushed the vase on purpose to stir up this mess.  


  
Hanzo shuts the shoji of his room a bit harshly. The kiss didn’t work even if he felt the world crumbling at his feet. After months doubting his feelings for McCree, he finally did something reckless, and it was for nothing. McCree doesn’t love him back, clearly doesn’t like him and, to get out of this mess, Hanzo will have to endure the shameful truth and it will never be the same between them. The worst is that he knows Genji did it on purpose. The moment they entered the old relics room, and he lured McCree near the vase, Hanzo opened his eyes wide and tried to avoid the disaster but it was already too late. The little shit played them both.

Hanzo leans on the wall and slumps on the floor as a deep sigh leaves his lungs. The hands of the cowboy bring a dopey smile to his face, and imagining just how devastatingly gorgeous McCree looks when he smiles, he blushes. Those are the kind of hands he would love all over his body, rough enough to feel them, soft enough to melt in them. Hanzo bites his lower lip, staring at the entwined hands on his lap and regretting having been so blunt with the cowboy. The story of his life for the past year.

Barely two nights ago he did something stupid. He got drunk, in the company of McCree no less. A wonderful night under a starry sky and the taste of shared sake and whiskey lingering in his mouth. Hanzo thought it was the chance he was waiting for; that McCree would forgive all his previous affronts and stroppy retorts if he saw his true self. The moment he noted McCree’s fingers ghosting over his hand, their eyes locked into each other. The alcohol intensified the blush of two pounding hearts, and Hanzo felt the world spin around them. But as soon as it started it ended. A flash of regret crossed McCree’s gentle eyes and stabbed his heart at the same time. And now this.

Hanzo mumbles a curse, running a hand through his hair to sense once more the brownish softness he would love to tug and scent freely and not like the forbidden thing this is. He stands and paces across the room, nervous as he is, wondering if he should find McCree now and end with his misery or wait a bit longer when both are calmed down. A sudden shudder runs through his spine as an idea lingers in his mind for a tad too long, bringing an intent shade of red to his cheeks. _I cannot,_ Hanzo wonders, wetting his lips with a flick of his tongue. Deft fingers play with the buckle of his belt, unfastening it as though it was nothing, just an idea materialized but with no further purpose.

This is wrong, Hanzo says, swallowing a lump in his throat when the fly of his jeans slides open by itself and a pair of black boxers hug a bulge deserving of his most shameful wet dreams. Hanzo hooks his thumb on the waistband and pulls, glancing at McCree’s most private parts as though he cannot believe he is doing this. “Fuck,” he curses, facing the wall and bracing himself on it with a clammy hand while the other hovers over the swelling bulge, slightly trembling. Just a glance at what he cannot have to chase him in sleepless nights.

Hanzo always had a funny way of torturing himself.

He slides a hand inside the boxers, and the moment he cradles McCree’s softened cock he swiftly swoops the jeans and boxers down his thighs and gasps. It’s already big, and soft, uncut, an alluring path of fuzz from the navel to the root. Hanzo swallows, surprised at how aroused he is, feeling his breath out of control and the cock in his hand -his cock- swelling as he pulls the skin back and strokes himself gently. He should stop, this is invading McCree’s privacy, more than that, this is so inherently wrong. Hanzo moans, wrapping his girth in a tight fist and working himself into a full erection. His spine curls in sheer pleasure while long strokes of his hand reveal a thick, hard cock he will never have in his mouth. “Jesse,” he mumbles, squeezing the tip as a clear bead oozes from the head and drips down his knuckles. The sound of his voice caresses his ears like a summer breeze.

Stopping is not an option anymore, not when he’s so invested in what he’s doing that it wouldn’t even make a difference. Hanzo jerks off, unable to take his eyes off from McCree’s cock as he works his shaft faster and his imagination runs wild. How would McCree feel in his mouth? In his own trembling hands? Pounding into his ass as it stretches him widely? Hanzo can almost feel the delectable burn that would be to take him all in a ruthless thrust. He knows he could lure McCree for a fuck, a one-night stand, perhaps if he makes him forget he’s the yakuza heir he sworn to protect. But it wouldn’t be enough, not to Hanzo when what he really wants is everything else: the sex surrounded by his endearments, his smiles, the sweet warmth of his love overwhelming him and not just a cock deep inside him. He can get that anywhere. McCree? He’s unachievable and it breaks his heart. It breaks his heart because that perfect, impossibly big cock will never be his. “Hanzo?” Genji knocks on the frame of the shoji and startles him.

“Wait!” Hanzo panics, wondering how is he going to tuck the king size cock back inside McCree’s tight jeans. He pulls up the boxers and pants, huddling the bulge on a side and zipping half-way up when he realizes it’s impossible. Hanzo takes out the shirt and covers the proof of his unrequited lust.

“Hanzo?” Genji slides the shoji open as Hanzo reaches the door in two strides and glares at him.

“I told you to wait,” he says, hoping the blush on his cheeks doesn’t give him away. “I am not in the mood, leave me alone.” Hanzo attempts to keep his brother outside his domains, but Genji stops the closing shoji with his foot and steps inside, narrowing his eyes at Hanzo.

“Why didn’t the kiss work?” Genji asks, cocking his head. Hanzo glares at him, unable to produce a word when he is more worried about the raging boner between his legs. “Make up your mind.”

“Pardon me?” Hanzo says in a huff, the forgotten anger coming back to him in a rush when his brother dares to come here to lecture him when this is his fault in the first place. “This is your doing.”

Genji rolls his eyes. “Either you like him or you don’t, but stop playing around with his heart.”

“I have never…” Hanzo dodges his unwavering gaze, ashamed that his little brother knows him that well. He flirted with McCree, the cowboy flirted back, but for one thing or the other every interaction ends up in a fight, an endless bickering between the two only surpassed by the one with his brother. The pressure of the Clan, being the heir and the expectations put on him allows for no joy in his life. Why should he drag the cowboy into his despair only because he’s unlucky enough to fall for him? Even if he lured McCree to his bed, it wouldn’t be because of himself but because he’s the boss. “He does not like me, it is too late.”

“Anija,” Genji sighs. “Maybe if you weren’t a pain in the ass all the time…” If looks could kill Genji would be dead right now under the gaze of Hanzo disguised in McCree’s gentle eyes. Genji gets closer, pulling Hanzo into a half-hug. “You know what you have to do,” he whispers into his ear.

“I hate you,” Hanzo retorts but yields, assuming there is no other way to get out of this without enduring the humiliation of confessing his love to a man who clearly despises him.

“No, you don’t,” Genji says. _He doesn’t hate you either_ , he thinks, squeezing tightly before he releases Hanzo and steps back, glancing at his brother still flustered by the previous kiss. Hanzo clears his throat and Genji squints his eyes, taking a suspicious sidelong while a mischievous smile stretches his lips. “Have you…?” He spots the untucked flannel shirt and snorts loudly. “Hanzo?”

“Get out!” Hanzo snarls, pushing a chuckling Genji out of his room as fast as he can.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell Jesse,” Genji says between chuckles, watching how his brother glares at him one last time with a deep blush adorning his cheeks before he slides the shoji closed. “He’s probably doing the same, you know?” he teases, relishing in his brother’s frustrated groan.  


  
McCree tosses the cowboy hat on his unmade futon. He would give anything for a proper bed to slump on it face down and muffle a shout of frustration. The silkiness of Hanzo’s long hair surprises him when he tries to rub his neck. “Damn,” he curses, getting rid of the hair tie as a smile creeps up his lips. The black sea of his hair drapes at both sides of his face, and he slides a strand through his fingers. He has wanted to do this so many times these past months it’s kind of sad he is able to do it in these circumstances.

His crush has gone too far. McCree has Hanzo’s body at his reach and it means nothing when the brat hates him for it and kissed him with such disdain it shattered his heart to pieces. He wanted to kiss Hanzo since the first time he saw him, enamored by the volatile creature tempting him day and night, but not like this, rushed, unwanted. And yet he will never forget it. McCree enters the adjacent bathroom, startling himself when he spots Hanzo on the reflection. They need to fix this as soon as possible, preferably before Hanzo hates him more than he already does.

“He’s damn gorgeous,” McCree mumbles, smiling at his reflection. Hanzo beams at him, the corners of his mouth pulling upward and making him smile wider and blush. But soon his smile vanishes, and he leans forward, hands at both sides of the sink. It’s not the same. When Hanzo smiles the sun shines, McCree can tweak the muscles but never replicate the tender joy he experiences when the dragon genuinely smiles at him, especially if it’s because he praised him when Hanzo didn’t expect it.

McCree leans forward, taking in Hanzo’s enrapturing beauty without the fear of being caught, risking a scolding or a mean nudge. His hand touches Hanzo’s cheekbones and slowly drifts down his face to part his lips, those rosy, velvety lips he dies to kiss. McCree tugs the shirt over his head in a single movement, without thinking, and the sight of a lean body honed by a grueling training tightens his throat. The dragon tattoo twitches in unison with his movements and a wolfish grin that resembles his own grows wide on his face when he lifts his fingers and touches Hanzo’s nipples shamelessly. “Holy shit,” he curses, his chest heaving as he feels a tingling curling his stomach nice and warm. He bites his lower lip on purpose, just to see how Hanzo would look if he did, gritting his teeth gently as the plump flesh slides free and swollen.

His breath seizes when McCree realizes he’s getting hard by the show he puts for himself. He thought a little look would do no harm that Hanzo could be doing the same thing now. He cups his chest as a moan escapes his mouth. McCree finally has Hanzo at his fingertips and it’s like playing with himself on the outside but a tricky torture on the inside. _I should stop_ , he thinks, unbuttoning his trousers and prying open his fly as though a jolt of lust had conquered his brain.

The beautiful dragon displayed in front of him and under his command. McCree wets his lips, riveting his eyes across the length of his body. He hooks both thumbs on the waistband of the boxers and glances one last time into those dark voids before he swoops them down. May Hanzo forgive him for this. Although he has no intention of telling him. It’d be his death sentence.

A loud moan leaves his lungs when he wraps a hand around his half-hard length and his eyes drop to the most perfect, round cock he has ever seen. He hears his heart thumping and the heat on his cheeks creeping up the tip of his ears. That’s how he knows Hanzo is blushing. He strokes himself fast until he has a full erection in his tight fist. It sends a jolt of pleasure through his body whenever he squeezes. “Hanzo,” he whispers, glancing back at the mirror and letting out a desperate gasp.

A new shade of red covers Hanzo’s cheeks and neck and McCree is so weak for it he feels dizzy. His ragged breath and the little whines top the scenery in front of him and make the cock in his hand twitch. A wonder of this world; that’s what Hanzo is like this. Part of him dreads this is all he will have, but he pushes the gloomy thoughts aside and how wrong this is and focuses on the lascivious reflection. McCree pumps his length with no trace or shame or patience. He wants to see Hanzo come undone, wants to ingrain the image in his mind for lonely nights to come.

He would love to see him like this while he makes love to him, slamming into Hanzo over and over until a watercolor pink covers his face and his name pours out of his lips in a sultry moan. That’s the only thing McCree doesn’t indulge himself in. This is somehow forgivable, a fantasy, but his name on Hanzo’s lips said by himself would be a lie. His balls draw up tightly, and McCree fights the hooded lids and the noises coming out of his mouth. He was never a lousy one, but whatever comes out of his lips deserves worshiping.

McCree closes his eyes when he climaxes unable to help himself, just at the exact moment he cums and paints the sink in white stripes. He opens his eyes as quickly as he realizes it’s over, watching the afterglow on his watery eyes, knowing it’s just a fantasy that will never come true, unattainable. His dragon, beaming so beautiful it hurts until he cannot stand his reflection anymore as though it’s a mockery and not the real thing. Because it isn’t and guilt churns his stomach.

“I have to tell him,” McCree mumbles, his eyes fixed on the sink. He opens the tap and the water washes his mess but not his shame. _But he was so beautiful…_

When McCree leaves his room, the setting sun greets him in a gingerly mist. They need to solve this because he cannot trust himself. If after an hour he jerked off in front of a mirror what will a whole night in Hanzo’s body make him do? He’d fuck himself in so many different ways, ruining for all eternity what they have now. Hanzo would notice at once and he’d die from embarrassment and Hanzo’s katana.

McCree spots himself at the end of the engawa, and when Hanzo sees him too, he stops at a halt, hesitating before he resumes his strolling. He swallows a lump in his throat, flashes of himself abusing Hanzo’s body drowning him in guilt once more. “I was gonna fetch ya’,” McCree says, noting the nervousness in Hanzo’s voice as though it was his own because it is.

“The sooner we solve this situation the better,” Hanzo says, beckoning McCree to follow him outside the engawa and into the Hanamura’s surrounding gardens. A chilly breeze sends a shiver through his spine or perhaps is being alone with Hanzo and knowing he will have one last chance to kiss him before this is over.

“Hanzo,” McCree says, at the foot of a cherry tree. This seems a good place like any other to break his own heart. “M’sorry.”

“What for?” Hanzo snorts, turning about to face McCree. “I am the one sorry for that sad attempt of a kiss.” A deep sigh leaves his lungs. “I was not thinking straight.”

“I liked the kiss.” _Because it was from you_ , he wants to say. Their gazes meet, and even though he recognizes his eyes he sees Hanzo in them and it brings a dopey smile to his lips. “I’m sad it didn’t work.” It sounded better in his mind.

Hanzo’s throat tightens at those words, but before McCree can explain further, he speaks. “The curse it is not just about kissing but being honest with the other and… yourself.” His heart leaps when he realizes what he has to do now: to open his heart and his feelings to McCree even though it’ll be for nothing.

“What do you mean?” McCree frowns, but Hanzo presses two fingers over his lips, looking at him as though it was a mirror and he was being honest with himself for the first time since he realized he was in love with the cowboy. “I… -Hanzo stutters, McCree’s breath puffing on his fingers- I have loved you since you came here live with us.” McCree’s eyes open widely, pupils eating up the already dark voids of Hanzo. He urges himself to end his misery. “I apologize if I have made things hard for you, I can only guess you will not look at me the same way, and…”

McCree grasps Hanzo’s wrist, moving the fingers away from his mouth while he wraps an arm around his waist and… stands on his tiptoes to find his mouth and stop the nonsense blurting out. He gasps into his mouth, suppressing a smile and sealing their lips together. “I’m soft down on you, darlin’,” he drawls into his mouth, drinking the surprised gasp coming out of Hanzo before he traps his mouth between the cage of his lips and kisses him.

 _Jesse_ , _Jesse, Jesse_ , Hanzo repeats endlessly in his mind, parting his mouth willingly because the cowboy glides a warm, wet tongue along them, asking for permission when he needs none. They mingle in a moan and in an instant, breathing the same heady air, hearts pounding in unison, minds shifting and souls drifting. Times means nothing; it slows down. There are nothing more than their lips, their mouths, and the overwhelming warmth curling their spines and offering a relief only requited love does.

“Jesse,” Hanzo mumbles, gasping for air. McCree chuckles, cradling Hanzo’s familiar frame between his arms and relishing in the tenderness of his name on his lips. That’s when he realizes they’re back where they belong. Minds in the right body. Together.

“Sweetpea,” McCree says, pulling back so he can drown himself in the eyes that now recognize his soul and bare his heart in the open. “It worked.” Hanzo blushes lovingly, a sweet smile pulling the corners of his mouth upward. That’s the smile, the one he will chase until the end of his days because it curls his stomach nice and warm. He catches Hanzo’s chin between his knuckles, tilting his head and kissing the tip of his nose. “Mine.”

“You wish,” Hanzo retorts, defeated by the cowboy’s sappiness.

“Are we off the hook?” McCree asks, a sudden fear crawling up his spine of never tasting Hanzo’s lips once he realizes they have nullified the curse.

“Yes.” Hanzo stands on his tiptoes and kisses him again, taking all the doubts away. “I suppose we are,” he whispers into his mouth, lips stretched in a smirk.

“I gotta tell you something.” McCree curses his past-self when Hanzo frowns. “I kind of… rubbed one off looking at you in the mirror.” That was easier than he expected, and McCree revels in the increasing blush covering Hanzo’s cheeks and the deadly grip on his shirt.

“You did what?!?” Hanzo fists McCree’s flannel.

“Don’t be mad at me, sweetheart,” McCree says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re too pretty when you blush. Just like that,” he teases. Hanzo nudges him, burying his scarlet face on his chest and muffling a groan. “M’sorry, pumpkin.”

“I may have touched your dick too,” Hanzo mumbles against his chest, gathering the courage to glance up at McCree. He finds a mocking grin.

“We’re even,” he jests, rocking Hanzo into his arms. _I owe the little shit a beer,_ he thinks, trapping Hanzo’s mouth for another tenderhearted kiss that ends abruptly when Hanzo bites his lower lip and moans audibly. “What is it?”

“My room. Now,” Hanzo commands, pulling at the collar of his shirt while he hustles through the garden, dragging McCree behind. “You clearly had more fun than I did, cowboy.”

“Yes, darlin’,” he says between chuckles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩


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